


Twenty-Five

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Birthday Cake, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Grand Prix Final, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:52:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: Yuzu has just won gold, made one of his greatest dreams come true, and to top it all off, it is his birthday. And yet, he doesn't feel like celebrating...





	Twenty-Five

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flyuzuru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyuzuru/gifts).



> Smol bean, this one is for you! Enjoy the cake and Happy Birthday! <3

**Twenty-Five**

Twenty-five, a gold, and a feat that caused a furore in the figure skating world.

Yuzu turns the gold medal over in his hand. It is the perfect birthday gift. It feels significant, too, that he has made figure skating history on the day he has completed a quarter century in this world. The axel had felt like the crowning jewel of his career, a milestone.

And yet, Yuzu doesn’t feel like celebrating. He feels hollow inside. It is not a new feeling. It has been with him since PyeongChang, or a little after. The raw, weeping wound has by now faded to a constant dull ache. It is almost bearable these days, but he still feels like a chunk of him – of his heart, his  _ soul _ – is missing.

When Javi had told him, in those moments before they both received their Olympic medals, that this would be the last podium they ever shared, Yuzu had known what he had to do.

He had thought of it many times, mulled it over, observed it from all angles. Subconsciously, he had been looking for an excuse, a loophole that would have allowed him  _ not  _ to go through with what he knew was necessary. He had found none. This was the only way.

When Javi had sprung the news of his impeding retirement, Yuzu had cried – not because of losing a training partner and a rival. No. He had cried because of what he knew must happen next. He had cried because he would be losing so much  _ more _ .

Yuzu knew how much Javi missed Spain. How much he yearned to build up skating in his home country, to carve out a life-after-skating for himself. Javi always talked about how  _ they _ would do that – have a life – together.

But Yuzu knew better. He knew he was selfish, knew he wasn’t  _ done _ , knew he’d always want  _ more.  _ He also knew Javi would never leave and go start something fresh in Spain as long as Yuzu was part of the equation, a magnet pulling sweet, committed, loyal Javi in the opposite direction.

Javi would stay in Toronto with Yuzu, even after he finished competing. It would hurt Javi to watch Yuzu continue reaching further, higher. Slowly, Javi would begin to resent him for living a dream that was no longer Javi’s to share, for chaining Javi’s heart to himself and keeping him from new beginnings.

It was the only way. And so Yuzu let Javi go.

He had delayed it, postponed it, saving the last moments of Javi’s love like a dying man in a desert saves his last gulp of water. He was weak, selfish, allowing himself to savor the joy and happiness just a little longer, until the end of the ‘Fantasy on Ice’ tour following the Olympic season.

When he could not justify a further delay, Yuzu steeled himself and took the plunge.

He had made up some reason, some stupid lie. It didn’t even matter that it was a weak one. Javi was so devastated he didn’t even notice, or stop to analyze Yuzu’s reasons, just as Yuzu had expected.

Yuzu somehow managed not to break down in tears until Javi had slammed the door upon his exit. Then he did, crawling to bed, sobbing like a wounded animal for hours until he finally passed out from exhaustion.

He had done it. So what if it meant sacrificing his own happiness. Javi was free now. Eventually, Javi would be happy. And that was all that mattered.

These days, Yuzu often wonders if he had been wrong. He had thought he needed to continue skating – and yet, when Javi was gone and the new season rolled around, Yuzu could barely remember why he was still doing it. It had taken the defeat at Worlds for Yuzu to find a flicker of that old flame, to convince himself that there were still goals worth striving for. After all, skating was all he had left.

The quadruple Axel was a dream come true. The electrifying feeling of landing it in competition for the first time, just earlier this night, is fresh in Yuzu’s mind. And yet, even one of the greatest achievements in his life feels wan somehow.

Yuzu stares at the gold in his palm, then tosses it aside carelessly.

He had tasted true happiness, and given it up. Whatever great heights he may claw his way to now will only bring him temporary satisfaction – a quick burst of elation that will fizz out like a bottle of soda left uncapped.

He closes his eyes. Exhales.

Twenty-five. To think that he has at least twice as much ahead of himself, without Javi, makes his skin crawl.

The knock on his door is quick and sharp. It is late, even Torino’s lively pre-Christmas buzz has died off outside, and Yuzu considers ignoring whoever has come calling. It is probably his mother, come to check on him and kiss his brow once more like she has taken to doing this past year, as if she has guessed that he was not as alright as he made seem.

He gets up from the bed and forces himself to open the door. His mother doesn’t deserve to suffer because of his bad decisions.   

The candle is the first thing he sees, a single flame dancing in the darkness of the corridor outside his room.

Then he sees the cake – it is his favorite strawberry shortcake, a mono-portion version, dough layered with fluffy whipped cream and topped with fresh strawberries, so very hard to obtain in December.

Finally, he sees the hands holding the small plate, strong and so familiar even after all this time. Yuzu vividly remembers what they had looked and felt like holding his hand, caressing his skin, disappearing inside him to coax out strangled moans.

He lifts his gaze.

“Happy Birthday,” Javi says, eyes glowing softly in the warm candlelight. “Can I come in?”

Yuzu nods, speechless, and steps aside. His throat is constricting, his mouth turns dry, and he can feel his heart thudding against his ribcage.

Once they’re inside, Javi hands him the little plate. Yuzu takes it and holds it with numb fingers. He is staring and he knows it. Javi’s cleanly shaven face, the strong edges of his jaw and the curve of his lips, the way his long eyelashes make his eyes look so much wider, brighter. He has missed Javi so much.

“Quick, blow," Javi tells him, nodding towards the candle that is now threatening to start dripping wax onto the cake.

Yuzu takes a breath and blows. The candle goes out, plunging them into darkness, with only Torino’s Christmas decorations and the bluish light of the moon for illumination.

“Did you make a wish?” Javi asks quietly.

“I did. I wished – “

“Shh! Don’t tell me,” Javi interrupts and his hand comes up so he can lay a finger over Yuzu’s lips.  “It will not come true if you do,” he adds, a smile in his voice.

“I think it already did,” Yuzu whispers. Hasn’t he been waiting for an opportunity to talk to Javi, face to face, for months? He is not sure why Javi is here, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he is, and Yuzu will seize the chance. It may be the last one he gets.  

Suddenly, he remembers another birthday, just two years ago. They had both been so angry, so broken – Yuzu quite literally, nursing his injury and wondering whether he’d even be able to go to the Olympics, and Javi broken over the fact that he had failed to qualify for the Grand Prix Final.  And yet, for a few exquisite hours on that December 7 th , none of it had mattered. They had been in their bubble, full to bursting with happiness, holding each other and reveling in the sheer joy of being alive and in love.

His eyes sting. Those days are gone and out of his reach, but Yuzu will salvage whatever scraps of their bond are left, and cherish them in his heart forever.

He gathers up his courage, sets the cake down on the small coffee table in the corner, and stands in front of Javi once again.

“Javi, I’m so sorry. I was wrong. I know it doesn’t change anything but – “ He lets the tears slide down his cheeks, damn it all to hell, his pride, his stupid stubbornness. This is real.  _ This  _ is what matters. “Can we please be friends?”

Javi looks at him, a small gentle smile on his face.

“Yuzu…” he starts, so softly that Yuzu is immediately terrified. “Yuzu, we cannot be friends.”

Yuzu feels his heart shatter into a thousand little pieces. It feels as if someone had hit him in the chest, knocking all breath out of him. His knees go unsteady under him and he sways a little, instinctually reaching out for Javi’s shoulder to steady himself.

Javi catches him, curling an arm securely around his waist.

His other hand comes up to cup Yuzu’s face and Yuzu doesn’t get it, doesn’t know what is happening, is he dreaming, hallucinating, is he –

“Yuzu, cariño, amor de mi vida. Why should we be friends – when we can be so much more?”

Javi’s mouth finds his, a sweet brush of lips, and Yuzu sobs into the kiss, letting himself crumple into Javi’s arms. Javi kisses him like he is precious, with infinite tenderness, and Yuzu feels like a fraud. He pulls away, gasping for breath.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry, I never wanted you leave. I thought I have to let go so you can go to Spain and live your life –“

He’s frantic, desperate to let Javi know how much he loves him, how much he has always loved him, and that he thought he was doing the right thing, but words keep failing him, getting lost between his hitched breaths, and tumbling out almost unintelligible.

He buries his tear-streaked face into Javi’s neck in defeat, breathing him in, steadying himself.

“Yuzu,” Javi says and nudges his chin with his shoulder to make him look up again. “I know. I understand now what you were trying to do, that it was all  _ in your plans. _ But that’s not how it works. You can plan everything in your life, I know it helps you. But please don’t make plans for mine,” Javi says gently but firmly. Yuzu starts nodding. “At least not without me, cariño.” Javi’s chuckle is light, amused, and Yuzu closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I thought –“ he starts again, but Javi silences him with a peck on the lips.

“We will talk about this, Yuzu,” Javi assures him. “But not tonight,” he adds, reaching up to cradle Yuzu’s head in both his hands, smoothing Yuzu’s hair behind his ears in a gesture that is endlessly soothing to Yuzu, has always been. “Tonight is your birthday, amor. And I love you. And I’m going to love you the way you deserve tonight.”

And Javi does.

They undress slowly, reverently, rediscovering each other. Yuzu’s fingers shake so hard he can’t open the buttons of Javi’s shirt, so Javi does it for him. Then pulls Yuzu’s t-shirt off, too – his  _ own _ t-shirt, the soft baby blue one Yuzu’s always been stealing from Javi and was unable to let go of even though wearing it to sleep made him hurt each night, over and over again.

He’s not hurting now, not anymore, after feeling like his very soul was ripping apart for nearly two years.

He feels whole, finally, when Javi kisses him, kisses down his chest, up his thighs, when Javi engulfs him in the velvety heat of his mouth.

He feels renewed, repaired, like a piece of broken pottery carefully mended, cracks filled up with gold, when Javi sinks into him, their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked, hot breaths mingling between their mouths.

He feels light and exuberant, like a thousand quad axels, when Javi moans “I love you forever” into his mouth and spills himself hotly inside him. “Don’t let me go,” Javi breathes then, helpless, desperate, and clutching at Yuzu’s body under him. It sends Yuzu over the edge, the knowledge that this is real, that Javi still wants him, needs him.

“Never,” Yuzu swears, reeling in the blissful aftermath of their love-making. “Never, Javi,” he promises.

Twenty-five.

Yuzu knows  _ forever  _ is not an option, not really, for we all must die. But as he drifts off to sleep, resting his head on Javi’s chest and listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart, he prays he will live not three, but four times as many years, just so he can spend them all with Javi.  

 


End file.
